


Les Yeux Noirs de la Bête

by Enfant-Loup (Justalittlehobbit)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dark!Jaskier, Demonic Possession, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:47:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25753828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justalittlehobbit/pseuds/Enfant-Loup
Summary: A yank and a roar piercing the sky and he could feel his wrist being wrench from the Witcher's hold. The wind whistles passed him as he screamed, the shrill piercing the darkness.He couldn't see anything except the jet of the night as he was taken into the trees.Something took Jaskier away from Geralt and the bard came back different, a little quieter, a little darker. What happened under the meat totem, deep in the bog? And why are Jaskier's eyes not so blue anymore?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 13
Kudos: 57





	1. The Cry in the Wetlands

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, fellow kids!  
> This is the first ever fanfic I decided to publish and I would be very glad for any kind of criticism! Also, english is not my first language so please excuse the grammar and abysmal vocabulary.  
> I hope you like this weird thing and have fun reading it :)

The sun was setting over the dark forest. Through the twisted branches reaching toward them like broken fingers, the orange glow was turning grey and blue. Jaskier could already see the mist rising from between the trees like an army of ghosts. He shivered.

_'' I don't like this place.'' He said to Geralt who was setting their tent up. He pushed his hand under Roach's mane to steal a little bit of her warmth, his breath forming little clouds over his lips.  
He watched the surroundings warily. They had found a small, dry piece of land to camp in the bog they found themselves into. It was a miserable isle surrounded by collapsing birch and putrid waters as far as the eyes could see. They were supposed to have crossed the hectares of swamps by now, but the trek had been difficult, agonizingly slow, and very, very muddy. Jaskier was cold and damp all over and he knew that he looked like shit because he could feel his hair frizzing and sticking to his forehead with the humidity. He wanted nothing more than to sink into a nice, steaming hot bath right now instead of being eaten alive by moths and mosquitoes.  
He crouched down and looked for a snack in his bag, muttering under his breath and jumped when the cry of a crow reached their clearing.

The Witcher didn't turn around to agree with him. Jaskier huffed.

_'' Shouldn't we turn back around?'' He asked hopefully. ''The decrepit old inn in the last village doesn't seem so bad right now!'' 

Geralt kept on fighting the poles that wouldn't stay upright in the wet soil and grunted, back turned.

_'' And plus, it's wouldn't be so muggy there...'' He continued, his voice rising on the last word. He blinked huge, begging eyes in the direction of the Witcher's back like his charms could miraculously work on him even when they weren't facing. Well, he thought, even when they were facing, his puppy eyes powers seemed to run over the Witcher like water on a duck's back. Which was weird because it worked with everyone else.

Geralt turned toward him at last, heaving a deep sigh, his white hair in disarray.

_'' The sun is setting, Jaskier. It's just for a night.'' He said, reaching for ropes in Roach's satchel.

Jaskier nodded, eyebrows arched over pleading eyes. He knew the inn was half a day by horse anyway, it was no use.  
_'' I just don't like it, is all.''

Geralt didn't answer him at first. He twisted the rope around one of the poles three times, tugged, and -by some ancient Witcher magic, the Bard was sure- the tent rose.

_'' I don't like it either.'' The Witcher said finally, yellow eyes scanning the surroundings. ''I swiped the area and there are no signs of a dragonturtles nest or anything else. Don't fuss. I'm going to fetch some wood.''

Jaskier scoffed and bid him good luck.  
He looked at his friend's back disappearing between the twisted, scrawny trees and put himself to work. He went to fetch leaves on nearby seedlings before coming back to the tent with an armful. He then applied himself and spread his findings, as evenly and thickly as he could, to stop the dampness from reaching their bedrolls. Humming under his breath, he laid out the blankets evenly, fluffing as best as he could their small lumpy pillows. Like this, their little camp seemed as cozy and inviting as possible.  
Once finished, he fetched his lute and sat in the opening of the tent, strumming a few cords by feel alone. A dark and moonless night had fallen over the bog, the heavy mist blocking any light from the stars. He shivered and stole Geralt's furs to wrap around his shoulders. He could hear Roach's gently munching a few damp strands of grass nearby. The water was gurgling in the peats, and a few insects were buzzing against the tarp of the tent but, aside from the crow's cry earlier, he couldn't hear any birds.  
He kept on playing softly to break the silence, eyes fixed on the blackness ahead.

Jaskier yelped when Geralt dropped a pile of kindle at his feet. The Witcher huffed a laugh at the high, girlish sound.

_'' You scared me!'' He half-whispered, half-shouted toward the patch of black shaped like his friend in the darkness.

_'' Shouldn't let anyone sneak up on you if you don't want to get scared.'' Answer a gruff voice, but Jaskier could hear the amusement hiding between the words.  
He gasped.

_'' So you did it on purpose! I can't believe it!''

Geralt said nothing to confirm or deny his accusation. Jaskier huffed again and resumed his playing.  
He could feel and hear more than he could see the Witcher preparing the tinder at his feet. Little sparks flew against the jet black of the night, illuminating the plane of his face for a second, before catching shyly on the damp branches. A low, timid fire started to lit the surroundings, making the darkness around them seem even more suffocating.

He looked at Geralt. His nose, his cheeks were painting gentle outlines in the dark. Jaskier couldn't see his eyes like this, hidden beneath his tensely furrowed brows. His silhouette was crouched and coiled over the fire like an animal about to pounce. He seemed anxious.  
Suddenly, a fox's cry pierced the dark, high and pleading like a woman in pain.

_'' You should go to sleep, Jaskier.'' The Witcher said after a beat of silence. ''I'll guard you for the night.''

_'' And what about you?'' Asked the bard, frowning.

The Witcher didn't answer right away, his golden gaze turned toward the treeline. He rose and went to where Roach was already sleeping and rummaged a moment in the saddlebag next to her lowered snout. He went back and dropped in front of the tent, nearly sitting on Jaskier's feet.  
Like this, his broad back was practically blocking the whole opening as well the light and warmth, of the fire. He took the silver sword out of his sheath and a second later, the sound of the whetstone gliding against steel pierced the stillness.

_'' I'll nap on Roach tomorrow.'' He answered without turning around.

The bard raised his eyebrows. He could do that? And how often? He then remembered the many times the Witcher didn't engage during their trek and wondered how often he had been chatting to a sleeping man.

_'' Ok then.'' He agreed, taking his boots off and placing them neatly next to his companion. ''But wake me up early so you can catch a nap before we have to go.''

Geralt didn't answer, hummed or grunted in affirmation and Jaskier knew that he wouldn't.  
He wanted to add something. Maybe thank him but he realized that he didn't know how to say the words. The night was too dark, the air too cold tonight and he just didn't have the strength to be raw right now. He claimed Geralt's spare pillow and fluffed it over his before lying down on his bedroll, putting his shabby blanket and Geralt's fur over him to keep warm as much as possible. He curled up, making the leaves creak under him and sighed.  
He could feel Geralt's warmth so close to him. He could touch him like this, he thought. An arm length away. He could put his palm between the muscled shoulder blades, kneed the knots away.  
Jaskier put his hands under the pillows.  
He closed his eyes, burrowing under the blankets a bit deeper, the frayed hem reaching his nose. The rhythmic sounds of the Witcher sharpening his sword, his steady breathing and the water gurgling all around him were singing a strange and comforting lullaby. He sighed again.  
Under him, his pillow smelled like Geralt.

Outside, the insect had stopped buzzing.

***

Jaskier woke up to a crashing sound against the side of the tent and a heavy weight falling on top of him, knocking the breath out of his lungs.

He tried to move but he couldn't. The thing above him was blocking him on his side, one arm stuck under him and the other behind his back, under the mass.  
The tent's roof had fallen on him and the more he tried to struggle, the more the cloth clung to him, suffocating him. He couldn't see a thing nor hear any noises except for his frantic panting.

_'' Geralt ?'' He called, voice high and cracking with fear. He attempted to shove off the weight off of him with a whimper, struggling as best he could. ''Geralt ?!''  
He tried to twist around and buck without managing to do anything but tire himself out. The cloth was clinging to his face, sticking to his mouth with every gasp. 

Realising that struggling was making his current situation worst, he steeled himself and listened with bated breath.  
There was no sound outside, not a bird's call, not an insect buzzing. He couldn't hear Geralt or Roach, only the gurgling of the peats outside and the cracking of the birch trees slowly sinking in the putrid waters.

Suddenly, a hand curled around his ankle, freezing even through his wool stocking, nail digging inside the delicate flesh through the mesh.  
He screamed as he was dragged with a sharp tug from under the weight and the debris of the tent. He bucked and tried to kick the person holding him like a spooked horse but his feet only hit the air. As quickly as it got a hold of him the hand let him go and with a roar he rose, prepared to attack with his hands and nails.  
But there was no one.  
He stood on unsteady feet, fist raised in front of him, watching the surroundings as best as he could with only the embers of the dying fire to lit the area.  
He could see the outline of a silhouette sprawled, unconscious over the wrecked tent.

_'' Geralt ?!'' He cried, darting toward his friend, stumbling against something in the dark.  
He glided on the grass in his hast to kneel next to him and took his head in his trembling hands, feeling the planes of his face against his palms more than he could see them.  
Placing two fingers under his nose to check for breathing he felt something wet and warm stain his knuckles. His heart leaped in his throat.

_'' Geralt ! Geralt wake up !'' He cried in a whisper, slapping softly where his companion's cheek must have been. ''You need to wake up now, ok? Wake up please !''

He was babbling, his hands shaking so badly that he had to make a valiant effort to not let the Witcher head slip from his clammy palms.

Abruptly a deafening cracking sound rose behind him and he froze with a gasp.

A snarl deep as the dark itself rattled his bones, shaking the ground under his knees. A small whimper tumbled from his trembling lips and he dug his nail in Geralt's skin. He felt a breath, cold as a winter night against the nape of his neck and he didn't, couldn't move.

_'' But one soul lies anxious, wide awake.'' Sang a voice, coming from the very belly of the earth, vibrating against Jaskier's lungs, clinging to his spine as he stopped breathing.

Under him, Geralt eyelashes fluttered against his fingers and Jaskier wanted to scream.  
Save us, he wanted to shout. Wake up and save us. Please. Geralt, please.

The Witcher opened his eyes and Jaskier realized that he couldn't see his face at all. The fire had died down completely, leaving them in the dark. All alone, with a beast.  
The Witcher's hands rose to grasp his wrists and he could feel the skin of his face start to break under his digging nails.

_'' Jaskier ?'' Asked the groggy voice of the Witcher. Jaskier let out a wrenching sob.  
_'' Geralt... There's something behind me.'' He whispered, burning tears dripping from his eyes, catching on his trembling lips, and falling on the Witcher's hands. ''Geralt...''

The plea turned into a scream, high and broken as something thick and hard curled around his stomach. A freezing body pressed itself against his back and he felt a damp, cold breath against the side of his face. The clutch tightened and suddenly pulled.

He yelled, scratching Geralt's face in a desperate attempt to hold onto him, knees digging in the dirt. The Witcher's hands gripped his wrists in a crushing hold.

_'' Geralt !!'' He screeched, voice cracking. The Witcher rose from under him. For a brief second, he could see a small glimmer inside the wild yellow eyes before the dark snuffed it again. ''Please, Geralt, help me !'' He begged.

A tug, so violent it made him want to hurl and the Witcher's grip around his wrists nearly crushed the bones. He felt his knees lift from the ground, his ribcage creaking under the hold of the beast.  
Sharp claws dug into his belly through his clothes and another sob escaped him.

_'' Jaskier ?'' Geralt called as the bard wept.  
_'' Please...'' He answered. ''Please help me.''

A yank and a roar piercing the sky and he could feel his wrist being wrench from the Witcher's hold. The wind whistle passed him as he screamed, the shrill piercing the darkness. 

He couldn't see anything except the jet of the night as he was taken into the trees.


	2. To find the Sun, follow the Crows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect any kudos or comments but I'm glad to see some of you enjoyed it!!  
> Here's some cliché hypothermia scenes just because. Also, nice drinking game: count the number of times Geralt says "fuck" in this chapter.

The world came to an halt.

Geralt rose with the pull of Jaskier from his hands, grasping the empty air in front of him. Palms aching, he stared at the darkness ahead for a second and stumbled. He could feel the prickling of the lacerations Jaskier's nails had left on his cheeks, the blood oozing from his nose, leaving a metallic taste in his mouth.  
A breath. He ran toward the treeline. 

He tripped over a fallen tree, nearly blind, catching himself at the last second. The mist was coating the bog, rolling between the thin, whites trunks, obstructing any visibility he could have had. He pushed forward in the dark, cursing his heightened senses that weren't helping him when he needed it the most. He stepped and fell into a peat, face first, cursing again. The cold was a shock, even with his Witcher resilience. 

_'' Fuck ! Fuck !! FUUUUUCK !!'' He yelled, climbing on all four on the sticky moss covering the shore. He was of no use if he went head first in the dark against a beast he didn't know anything about and without any cat potion to back him up in the night.  
He didn't even hear the creature sneak up on them and it was a damn shame on his part. He could only remember going to put the whetstone back in his bags next to Roach and being knocked over by an invisible force as he returned to stand guard next to the sleeping bard.  
The bard who was now gone.

He rose and clenched his teeth to stop his head from spinning, nails digging in his palms. He needed to be prepared, he couldn't throw himself in a hunt like a headless chicken and put Jaskier in danger with his recklessness. He jogged back toward the camp and picked a huge piece of wood from the dead fire and ran to his bags. Roach had fled a few yards away and he could smell her hiding between the trees more than he could see her. He didn't have any time to run after her and to calm her down. He could only hope that she wouldn't be foolish enough to get herself stuck in one of the peat and risk breaking her legs. He rummaged around his bag and put his potion's pouch around his shoulders before fetching the sealed iron box where he kept his oiled clothes. He took a roll out, tossing the box back half hazardly and wrapped it around the wood before igniting it with a quick Igni.  
A small glow illuminated the ruined camp. The tent's cloth had been torn and their pillows were bleeding their feather all around. Jaskier's case lute was intact, standing next to where the Witcher had been sitting just a moment before and next to it, his discarded silver sword.  
Geralt went to pick it up, the weight comforting in his hand.  
Looking toward the treeline he frowned, golden eyes shining against the fire of the torch.

The Witcher stood still for a second and closed his eyes. He emptied his head with a deep breath. He would do what he did best and hunt.

He crossed the trees where Jaskier had disappeared, the trail heading north between the nude birches.  
His hands clenched around his sword and the torch's wood until his palms ached, he tracked all the clues he could find. There an upturned twig, there a broken branch, there specks of blood shining against the white bark of a twisted tree.  
The hunt was even more difficult than it already was tracking down a creature who seemed to not leave any prints by the numerous ponds rising from the damp soil. Oftentimes, he ended up losing any traces of the beast and the bard but always managed to find his way back after many turns and detours.  
Around him, the forest was eerily silent. Not a single bird's cry or a frog's croak. No insects buzzing anywhere.  
After a while twisting and turning around, Geralt found himself near a small collection of peats,. The smell of decaying plants and upturned waters nearly making him gag.  
He looked around. As far as he could see the floor had turned into shallow peats, then little ponds and finally a lake, it's dark surface disappearing in the fog ahead. Grunting, the Witcher went around the slippery shores to look for any clues that could have been left there but there was none, only the mist and the silence of the black water ahead. He grunted again and stepped in the putrid waves. The mud was reaching his waist and the floor was so slippery that he had to concentrate on every step. Often he found himself having to free his legs from grasping algae and twisting branches. He had lost every sign of any trail he had and could do nothing except going forward.  
Geralt went a while like this, growing steadily colder and numb, trying to keep track of the north where the trail had been headed. His thighs were aching and his arms burned holding up the torch and his sword above the surface. At several point, he had to resort to swimming before his feet could touch again the shallow floor of the lake.  
Suddenly, the ground disappeared from under him. He let out a curse who was quickly drowned when his face drown beneath the black surface and dropped the torch. The flame sizzled and went out as the wood sank into the putrid depths.  
He cursed under his breath and slapped the water, brushing the mud out of his eyes. With a grunt, the Witcher fetched his soaking potion bag and rummaged in the dark. Finding the familiar bottle of the cat decoction by touch alone, he uncorked it with his teeth and drown it in one large gulp. All around him, the world became a little clearer and he could see the endless surface of the shallow lake, pierced there and here by decaying trees cadaver. Drenched as he was, the cold had become even more biting. He started walking again, praying that the potion will last him until dawn. The shattering of his teeth and the sluggish noise of the water were his only companions.

Geralt walked until the dark slowly turned to grey above the mire. A shy, pale light started to pierce the mist and a small snowflake drifted down in front of his nose. He grunted. Now the fucking snow, the cherry on top of the shit cake.  
Ahead, the thin line of the shore appeared through the mist and he rushed toward it.  
The snow had covered the grass with a thin sheet of ice, turning each blade into a well-sharpened knife. He cursed as he climbed out of the waters, hands and feet slipping on the glaze. Any traces that could have been left by the creature or his friend had truly and definitely disappeared.  
He looked around, kneeling on the freezing floor, his breath coming in short pants. There was nothing but an army of twisting trees and greyish grass as far as the eyes could see. Between the birch, the mist was getting thicker and thicker, circling the barks, hovering above the waters.  
Geralt turned his face toward the white sky. Small snowflakes fell on his cheeks prickling the cuts on his muddy skin.  
He closed his eyes and let out a long breath.  
He roared.

A few paces away, a crow took flight, spooked by the noise.  
Geralt stood a quick as he could, cat eyes turned toward the noise. It was the first sign of animal life he had since the beginning of the hunt. A crow most likely meant a charnel. A charnel meant a beast. A beast meant Jaskier.

_'' Wait for me you fucking fowl !'' He hollered before starting to rush after the bird.  
He slipped an unfair amount of times on the ice-covered ground but always managed to catch himself at the last second, not wanting to lose trace of the bird.  
He ran for what felt like an eternity, his panting breath turning into small clouds around his face.  
Overhead, the snow was still falling from the sky like ash. Losing trace of the bird a few times, he managed to found small droppings, a feather there and here, little prints on the snow.

After what felt like an eternity, the Witcher found himself in front of a firth a few yards wide, drawing a perfect circle around a raised terrain. The top of a small, perfectly round island was lost in the mist and a strong smell of decay wafted toward him. Above his head, the crow was perched on a twisted branch, pecking at his wings.

There, his instinct told him. The Beast is here.

Without hesitation, Geralt stepped in the smelly, freezing waters of the firth, eyes fixed on the isle ahead.  
The water was reaching the top of his thighs and the steering of his steps made a lot of things rise to the black surface: skulls, ribcages and bones of foxes, harts, roe deers and even boars. So, he thought, that was where all the animals had gone? Slowly crossing the liquid graveyard, he kept his eyes open for any signs of human remnants.

He reached and climbed the shore, his numb muscles crying over the movement.  
Under his feet the grass of the island was dead. There was nothing but upturned dirt and bones lying all around. Geralt coughed and put his sleeve against his nose. The sharp, pungent smell of decay was getting stronger and stronger as he was coming closer to the center of the isle. The mist was dancing over the black dirt and for a second the Witcher saw a tall, weird silhouette standing where the stench was coming from. Approaching to get a closer look, he unsheathes his sword, bones cracking under his boots.  
There, standing tall, half disappearing in the mist, was a totem.  
A totem made of dead animals.  
Flies were buzzing all around, feasting on the carcasses. Close to the earth, where the base was larger, the cadavers were nearly whole, just starting to rot and he higher the totem went, the drier the bones became. Geralt shivered. There was the body of a hundred animals, maybe more, stretching toward the sky, all twisted around each other in grotesque positions. He didn't know any beast that did this. Nor any humans that could.  
Still keeping his sleeve over his nose and mouth he went around, looking for a piece of human body between the mess of decaying flesh. He slipped on the round part of a skull and cursed, his gaze falling toward the floor. Next to his feet, half-buried in the black earth was a piece of sky-colored cloth, the only piece of color in the dead decor.  
He gulped and picked it up with trembling fingers. It was torn and dirty and stinking of fear. He drew it toward his nose and inhaled. Underneath the stench, he could still smell a little bit of the honeysuckle and buttercup scent that was so characteristic of Jaskier.

Suddenly, a few yards away, an exhale broke the silence.  
Geralt turned toward the sound, ears straining, and ran toward the source.

_'' Jaskier ?'' He called with a hoarse voice. ''Jaskier ?? Where the fuck are you ?''

Through a sudden parting of the mist he saw something in the water lying against a bank of dying ferns before it disappeared again behind the dancing clouds. He ran and fell back in the muddy river without care. A cough broke the silence and he half ran, half swam toward it.

An arm was stuck in an agglomerate of the rotting branches of a fallen tree, keeping a torso and a head barely above the waters.  
A small white hand laid, gently curled between the twigs and the Witcher stopped breathing.

_'' Jaskier !'' He roared, rushing toward the bard.

Jaskier's body was half-submerged in mud and when Geralt took his head between his hands, his cheeks were freezing under his palms.

_'' Hold on, I'm getting you out of here.''

He untangled with care the thin arm of the bard from the grasping branches and carried him back to dry land. Jaskier was unresponsive, head thrown back, skin pale under the mud and grit covering him from head to toes. His breathing was weak and when the Witcher checked his pupils they were blown out, his lips blue en trembling. Geralt let out a litany of curses. 

_'' Fuck... Fuck !'' He yelled. ''Wake up Jaskier.'' He begged, softly slapping the bard. ''Open your eyes for me, ok ?''

But Jaskier was silent. His head lolled against the Witcher's tight where he was propped. Geralt needed to get him to somewhere warm, and quickly. He took off his mostly dry coat and draped it around his shoulders. Picking the bard up, he threw him across his shoulders, his left arm clasping around his trembling legs, his right hand clutching Jaskier's wrist against his chest. Like this, the bard's cheek was gently laying against his biceps and he could feel his breathing through his shirt, cold but steady.  
The Witcher stood and started walking, wanting to get away from this place as quickly as possible.

The trek back was long, freezing and exhausting. His thighs and his chest were burning from the cold and his back, shoulders, and arms hurting under the weight of the bard.  
Roach came to meet him halfway, waiting on the shore of the largest shallow peat he had to cross back. She trotted toward him with a nicker and waited for them to climb out of the water before nosing his hair. He smiled and hugged her head, relieved to find her unscathed. 

_'' Can you carry him for me ?'' He asked her, stroking her velvety nose. She huffed but let him put the unconscious bard on her bareback, bitting the Witcher's sleeve in retaliation. ''Keep him warm for me, ok? He needs it.''

They walked for what left like an eternity. Above them, the sun was leaving his zenith and starting his slow descent.  
They finally arrived back at the wrecked camp, Roach following him, even without a bridle. The place was as in disarray as he had left it, their belongings scattered everywhere. 

He gently took Jaskier down from Roach, one arm around his shoulders and the other gently cradling the back of his knees. The bard was shaking, his teeth an incessant rattle in the silence of the bog. Geralt pushed aside the destroyed tarp of the tent with his feet and laid down the unconscious bard on the still thankfully dry bedrolls underneath. He stripped him of his still-damp clothes, his freezing hands struggling to undo all the small buttons of his friend's doublet. With a grunt, Geralt took a knife from his boot and slashed the garment, careful to not cut the bard. He then did the same with his pants and underclothes, tossing them aside near the dead campfire. Underneath the layers, Jaskier's skin was deathly pale, his lips, nose, fingers, and toes a worrying tinge of blue. He had bruising around his ribs and Geralt palpated gently the bones but none of them seemed broken. The blood he had found during the hunt seems to come from a small cut across his collarbones, already starting to scab. He wasn't hurt then, he just needed warmth.  
Above them, the snow had stopped falling and the wind rose. The gush of air between the trees made the whole bog moaned as if in pain. They needed to go.  
Jaskier's shaking became more violent and he let out a small moan. Geralt cursed and wrapped him in the blanket and furs balled up under the tarp, before going to fetch their packs. He rummaged in the bard's bag and took out his warmest clothes: a pine wool shirt with pastel green ribbons decorating the throat and a deep purple velvet pair of pants and doublet with fur lining. Struggling to dress the unconscious body underneath him, he thought for a second that if Jaskier was awake he would have yelled at him for making him look like an eggplant. He closed his eyes a second, fingers trembling over the thin ribbons, so soft against his dirtied, calloused hands. He wanted terribly for the bard to wake up and yell at him for his terrible fashion sense. He swallowed against the knot that had formed in his throat since Jaskier disappeared behind the trees and finished dressing the bard. Behind him, Roach kicked the earth with a small squeal, ears flat against her head. Geralt took his spare cloak in his pack and the one he had left discarded nearby and wrapped them around the bard, drawing the hood over his damp, muddy hair. He finished bundling up the unconscious body in the blanket and gently laid him back on the bedrolls.

Geralt jogged toward Roach, taking her saddle and bridle where he had left it on a fallen tree and harnessed her, before putting the bard on her back again. He hastens to gather the rest of their belongings, strapping Jaskier's lute and their packs to the mare's saddle before mounting her. He installed the cocoon of blankets that was the bard against him, caging his body against his chest, resting him between his arms holding the reins. Like this, his freezing nose was gently resting against his pulse and Geralt could feel him shiver, his breath trembling against the hollow of his neck.  
He led Roach out of the bog.

They rode until the night fell and as the moon started rising and found themselves back in mostly dry ground. When they came into view of a sturdy road, knowing that the terrain couldn't hurt her ankle anymore, Geralt's launched the mare in a quick trot. Between his arms, Jaskier moaned at the first jolt, burrowing his face deeper in the Witcher's shirt collar, hands moving slightly beneath the layers of clothes and blankets.  
The moon was high, bathing the road in a pale light behind the dark clouds clinging to her, when they came into view of the backwater little town they had crossed the day before. The sight was as depressing has it has been then, the buildings still damp and grimy, stone walls covered in moss and rotten wood.  
The streets were empty at this hour and Geralt led Roach in a short gallop toward the inn. The building was short and chunky like a toad, all its shutters closed for the night. He cursed himself, remembering how yesterday Jaskier had insisted on stopping there for the night and how he hadn't listened. He had wanted to cross the bog as quickly as possible, wanting to reach the next town over where he had heard of a pack of werewolf causing chaos. He knew that if he had been alone he would have had no difficulty reaching it before nightfall but he hadn't thought of the bard slowing him down. He had been stupid. So fucking stupid.

With a grunt he dismounted and took Jaskier in his arms so he wouldn't fall from Roach before starting to bang on the inn's rotten wooden door.

_'' Open up !'' He roared, breaking the calm of the street. Nearby, a dog barked, and across the street, someone lit a candle and a soft glow fell on the slippery cobblestone. A figure came within view, watching the scene behind a dirty window. 

_'' Open the fuck up !'' He yelled again, the door shaking under his blows.

Finally the door opened, held ajar by a short chain and a tall, bearded and disgruntled man appeared in the interstice, holding a small oil lamp. He looked at Geralt's scowl and Jaskier's bundled form with a curious glint in his dark eyes.

_'' I need a room and a bath.'' Geralt growled before the man could say anything.

Across the street, the curious figure opened the window and yelled :

_'' Is everything okay, Gaunter ?''

Gaunter, the innkeeper, growled and spat through the opening. Geralt had to step aside for it to not land on his boots. 

_'' Everything's okay, Erny.'' Answered the man with a deep voice, his accent rolling like gravel in his throat. ''Go the fuck back to sleep.''  
The so-called Erny huffed and closed the window. A second later the candle was snuffed out and the dark fell back on the street.  
The innkeeper eyed Geralt again, his heavy-lidded eyes assessing him from head to toes. He stopped to study Jaskier's sleeping face, half-hidden under the clothes and the hood.

_'' Ya got coin ?'' Asked Gaunter in his growling voice, the accent so thick that the Witcher almost didn't understand him. Geralt nodded, shaking his leg to make the pouch at his hips tinkle. The innkeeper looked at him again, then at Jaskier and back at him. ''Ok... '' He finally said as Geralt was about to snap at him. ''Come inside.''  
He closed the door, unlatched the chain, and opened it up again, only wide enough for the Witcher to squeeze inside, trying no to hit the bard against the frame.

_'' Whattsya got there ?'' The man asked, nodding his bald head toward Jaskier.  
_'' He fell inside the bog.'' Geralt answered with a grunt. ''He needs a bath, warm.''  
The man hummed and led the Witcher down the small, empty tavern. Fresh straw was covering the floor and all the chairs were upside down on the tables. He went behind the bar to fetch a key and tossed it toward Geralt without a look. It hit the Witcher on the forehead with a small noise and fell on Jaskier's bundle of blankets. The Witcher leveled the innkeeper with a glare but the man already had his back turned.

_'' I'll bring the water up for ya. The room's upstairs.'' He mumbled, carrying two larges buckets toward a door in the back. ''It'll be double for the bath and for the fact that ye woke ma missy up.''  
Geralt nodded, not wanting to argue and climb to the room. Balancing Jaskier in one arm, he struggled a moment with the rusted lock and opened the door. It was as small and run down as the rest of the town and smelled strongly of mold. Nevertheless, the sheets were dry and clean, which was more than the Witcher had hope for.  
He carried Jaskier toward the only bed and laid him gently down, arranging the layers to be as comfortable as possible. He added the tick, scratchy blanket to the pile covering the bard, and tucked him in before going to the fireplace. He half hazardly threw the logs he found in a small basket in the hearth before lighting them with a quick Igni.  
Behind him, a whistle rose and the Witcher whirled around, a growl on his lips, hand on his steel sword.

_'' That's a nice trick ye got there.'' The innkeeper said, his eyes fixed on the dancing flames. He was carrying two steaming buckets and went to put them down next to the rusted bathtub and the Witcher went to place himself between the man and Jaskier. ''So, I wagger ya're a mage, no ? A witch ? We don't get a lot of folks round here, ye know. Ya're no Witcher they talked about, yes ? Since ye got the yellow eyes and all. Kill monsters ?'' Geralt squinted and nodded, watchful of the man's reaction, but the innkeeper just shrugged. ''And him,'' he asked with a jerk of his head in Jaskier direction, ''He a beast ?''

_'' Just a bard.'' Geralt answered with a grunt and the man's deep-set eyes light up at that. He ran a hand as large as a shovel inside his shabby bear, trying to brush it like it would be undignified on his part to appear unkept in front of an unconscious bard.

_'' Heal him good then, will ya ? I'll like to have him sing, ts'been a long time since we hadn't had any cheer here.'' He turned back toward Geralt and put his hand on his hips. The Witcher realized that the man was even taller than him. ''Help me carry the rest of the buckets up, will ya ? Not hard for a strong fella like ya, no ? Warm the little bard good so he sings. Come, come.'' He said, patting Geralt's shoulder, a small smile wrinkling his dark eyes. The Witcher caught himself smiling slightly back at him and followed the man.  
Together, they brought enough water to fill the little bathtub up.

_'' I'm out then.'' Gaunter grunted in his gravelly voice as he dropped the last bucket in the steel tube. ''There'll be food for you and the little bard tomorrow. If you need me, I'll be around the inn, I'm the blacksmith as well with the missy.'' Geralt didn't answer him and poured his own bucket. The water was high enough, steam rising toward the ceiling in lazy swirls. The inkeeper huffed a laugh at his silence and went out of the door, closing it behind him without a look back.  
The Witcher followed him to locked it, pocketing the key.  
He went back to Jaskier's side. His shivering had almost stopped and his cheeks were starting to turn pink again. He sat on the mattress next to him and drew the hood from where it had fallen over his face and gently put a hand against his cheek. He was relieved to find his skin warmer than before, even if it was colder than he would have liked. In his sleep Jaskier nuzzled his palm and Geralt smiled, brushing the bard's eyebrow with the pad of his thumb.

_'' You scared me, you know that ?'' He told him, voice low. '' And I'll be glad if you never did it again, alright ?''  
The bard's eyelid fluttered for a second, feathery lashes brushing the Witcher dirty palm. With a last stroke of his thumb, Geralt rose and went to check the water, hot but not scaling, before undressing the bard again. He lifts the naked body in his arms before lowering him gently in the steaming bath. When his skin came in contact with the water, Jaskier opened his eyes and let out a shout, scrambling to catch the Witcher's shoulders. Geralt shushed him, softly catching the bards wrists in his hands.  
_'' It's okay, Jaskier. Wake up, you're safe.'' 

The bard gaze fell on the Witcher, brows arched over his wide eyes as he was laid on the tub. He looked around, scanning the room, hands trembling over the water. His eyes fell back on Geralt and he opened his mouth to say something, blue orbs peering at the mud on his face, the dried blood under his nose, and the scratches on his cheeks he hadn't take the time to wash away. His lips closed again and he blinked, blue eyes turning glassy.

_'' Where am I ?'' He asked in a whisper, his hands grasping Geralt's shirt from where he was kneeling over the tub. ''What happened ?''  
Geralt took the trembling fingers in his and lowered the bard's hand in the warm water before fetching the soap and sponge on the stool next to him.  
_'' You were taken by something in the bog. It attacked our camp and took you away.'' He answered with a low voice, not wanting to scare the bard more than he already was. He soaked the sponge and drew it across Jaskier's shoulders, scrubbing the mud away. ''I went after you and found you freezing in the water. I took you back to the village.''

Jaskier was watching him, blue eyes shining. He didn't resist when Geralt took his arm out the water and cleaned it, his hand small in his as he washed the grit away from where it was sticking between his fingers.  
They were silent for a moment, Geralt drawing the sponge over the skin he could reach above the water. He watched the small drops of water, grey with mud, rolling down the pale skin of the bard's shoulders, the freckles on his skin, catching in the hair of his chest .

_'' I don't remember anything after it pulled me away.'' Jaskier said, his eyes fixed on the flames dancing in the fireplace behind Geralt. ''I remember clutching your hands, a pull, and then nothing. Just black.''

Geralt hummed softly and took one of the buckets still full on the floor.

_'' It's normal to forget things after a shock. The brain protects itself as it can.'' Jaskier turned toward him, his eyes plunging in his. He curled a little, arms going around his knees sticking out of the water like two round, pink bubbles. ''Maybe it will come back to you. Put your head back, I'll wash your hair.''

The bard smiled at that but said nothing and bared his neck, dropping his head backward. Geralt poured the water over his hair and took the drenched strand in his hands, spreading the soap and oil over his scalp. Under him, he could feel Jaskier starting to relax under his ministration. He helped him finish washing, the bathwater muddy, and black when he stepped out. The Witcher took the sheet from the bed and wrapped the shivering, naked bard in it before leading him to sit on the stool in front of the fire. Jaskier sat there, silent, clutching the cloth around his trembling form and Geralt watched as the water drew small halo where it was wet, sticking to his skin in wide ringlets on his tights, his shoulders. Geralt swallowed and tried to take his eyes away from where the wet strands of his friend's hair were curling around his ears.  
He was safe. He was here. He wouldn't disappear if he blinked. 

_'' My head feels foggy.'' Said the bard, his blue eyes empty, lost in the fire. ''It's weird, it's like I'm still asleep.'' He turned toward Geralt and smiled at him, more with his eyes than with his lips. ''I think I'm just tired.''

Geralt nodded and went to their bag to fetch their packet of dried meat and nuts.

_'' Eat a little before going to sleep.'' He ordered, putting the packets in Jaskier's hands.  
_'' I'm not really hungry.'' Answered the bard with a twist of his lips. Geralt sat in front of him, his back to the flames, and took a piece of meat and a handful of nuts.  
_'' You need strength.'' He said, popping a walnut in his mouth. He looked up at Jaskier from where he was sitting on the floor with what he hoped was a pleading look. Jaskier snorted at that and started munching on a piece of meat. Geralt gave him his waterskin to wash it down and was pleased to see Jaskier take a second piece.

When the bard was dry, he went to fetch the wool shirt he had put on him earlier as well as some clean underclothes. Jaskier let the now dry sheet fall on the stool where he was sitting and Geralt turned around to let him get dressed in peace. Behind his back, he could hear the bare feet of his friend pad toward the bed and the rustling of the sheet. When he turned around, Jaskier was lying on his side, the dry sheet, the inn's blanket, his own, and Geralt's fur throw all pilled over him. He was looking at him, chestnut hair falling a little over his eyes.

_'' You saved me.'' He whispered to the Witcher when their eyes met. ''I would have died if you hadn't found me.''  
Geralt didn't know what to answer to that and said nothing. He sat on the floor again so he could be face to face with the bard. Jaskier's blue eyes followed his movement. He took his hand from under the pile of blankets, the pale green ribbon at the wrist fluttering a second, and took a piece of Geralt's hair between two fingers and tuck it back behind his ear. ''Thank you.'' He said in a breath, his blue eyes shining in the dark of the room. He drew back his hand and curled up under the covers with a shiver. He drew the blankets to his nose and sighed. ''I can't seem to be able to get warm.'' He said from underneath the quilt and Geralt rose to put some wood in the hearth.  
He stood in front of the fireplace for a moment, watching the crackling logs, ears straining for a noise. Outside he could hear the bark of a dog, the croaking of frogs, and the buzzing of insects bumping against the dirty glass of the window. Somewhere in the building, the innkeeper was snoring and behind him, Jaskier's breathing was deepening. There was no more silence, no smell of decay here.  
He turned around, golden eyes falling in the curled silhouette. Jaskier was here, he was safe.  
Geralt knew he needed to go tend to Roach downstairs but he wasn't brave enough to leave the bard behind again. He instead went to clean his face in the cooling water of the bath, scrubbing the mud and blood away from his face and hair. He needed a proper bath himself but he couldn't find the strength to undress and step in the cold, dirty water. Drying his face with his hands, he sat back down next to the bed, watching the falling and rising of the bard's chest beneath the blankets. He rested his head on the mattress, his still dirty, damp hair staining the sheet under his head. He knew that the knots will be a pain to untangle tomorrow but he was too tired to brush it. He could see Jaskier's hair on the pillow, hear the soft beating of his heart. The bard's hand came from the bundle of blankets to rest next to his face and Geralt had to clench his fists on his knees to stop himself from reaching toward it. He closed his eyes for a second and fell asleep without meaning to.


	3. Your eyes are empty, my love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for taking so much time to write this  
> Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy it :)

Geralt was awakened by a scream. He stood and took the silver knife he kept in his boot before being fully awake and came back to consciousness with his hands raised in front of him, feet planted on the straw-covered floor in a fighting stance. He looked around, frantic, his slow heart beating in his throat. On the bed, Jaskier was trashing around, head thrown back on the pillow, hair sticking to his forehead. He yelled again, raw, and kicked under the blankets. Geralt kneeled next to him and took the bard's face in his hand.

_'' Jaskier.'' He pleaded. ''Jaskier, wake up! It's just a nightmare, it's okay. You're okay.'' Jaskier trashed in his hold and Geralt could feel burning tears on his palms. He opened his eyes with a gasp, eyelashes wet and eyes red-rimmed. He looked around for a second like a wild animal before settling on Geralt's face in front of him. He panted out a sob, clutching the Witcher's hand against his cheeks.

_'' Geralt ?'' He asked in a breath, his voice breaking on the sound. Geralt had never heard him sound so young. He looked like a kid with his shiny blue eyes and spot of red high on his nose and cheeks.  
_'' Yes, it's me'' he answered, the pad of his thumbs brushing the tears away. ''Are you okay ?''  
Jaskier looked around again. It was still night outside and the fire was low. His eyes searched the dark corner of the room, round and wild. His breathing quickened. His blue eyes planted themselves in the Witcher's golden ones.  
_'' There's something in the room.'' He gasped, voice going high with fear. ''Geralt, there's something in the room with us.''  
Geralt frowned and looked around. Against his chest the medallion was cold and silent, the room smelled of fear, fire, and decaying wood. Crows were crying outside and the insects were still buzzing against the window. He couldn't see nothing, hear nothing. But then again, he hadn't felt or hear the beast the first time it took Jaskier away.  
_'' There is nothing there'', he said finally, thumbs still stroking the bard's face in a placating gesture. ''We're at the inn, we're safe. Everything is alright. Breath with me, okay ?'' He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly and watched as Jaskier struggled to do the same.   
They stayed like this until Jaskier could breathe normally again and Geralt laid him back on the bed. He took the blankets that had been kicked at the foot of the bed and put them back over the trembling form of the bard.

_'' Look at yourself,'' Jaskier chuckled, lips quivering. ''You're taking care of me.''  
Geralt huffed a laugh.  
_'' Well, someone has to do it, since you can't do it by yourself.'' He answered with a smile.  
Jaskier gasped with mock affront as the Witcher draped his furs over his chest.  
_'' I've been traumatized, Geralt !'' He grinned and threw his head back on the pillow, dramatic. ''You need to treat me gently or I may die.'' He said, elegantly draping the back of his hand over his forehead.  
Geralt chuckled and stopped himself before telling him that he had been traumatized too by his disappearance. Jaskier saw the shift in his expression and Geralt understood that he had read his face as clearly as if he had read his thought. A silence fell on them and he could feel the bard's eyes burning the side of his face.  
_'' Will you stay, until I fall back asleep ?'' Asked Jaskier in a low voice. Geralt could do nothing but nod and Jaskier smiled, letting out a contented sigh as he burrowed himself back under the blankets.

Geralt watched him until his breath deepened. When he was sure that the bard wouldn't wake again he went downstairs to take care of Roach. The wind had picked up outside and was howling between the rotting buildings. He found the mare munching on damp straws in front of the stable, the saddle still on her back. He apologized profusely to her, giving her an apple and a good scratch behind her ears. She snorted and headbutted his chest as he led her to the stables. He took the saddle and harness away, putting the equipment on the wooden door before starting to brush her flanks. He also took the time to clean up her hooves before giving her some fresh straw.   
If he strained, he could hear Jaskier's breathing in the bedroom above. He was safe, he told himself. The beast hadn't followed them here. So why were his hands trembling so much?

He finished taking care of Roach and with a last pat on her head he went back upstairs. He poked the fire until it was purring on the hearth and went to sit back at Jaskier's bedside, his elbows on his knees. He breathed out as he watched the light playing on the bard's face, his eyelashes casting long shadows on his pale cheeks. He didn't fall back asleep.

When the sun rose he rose from his seat with it and went downstairs to fetch some clean water and warm food.  
Gaunter was behind the bar, cleaning some glasses and he beamed at the Witcher when he appeared. Geralt stopped in his tracks and frowned.

_'' How was the night, Master Witcher? Heard some screaming, everything alright ?''

There were half a dozen men sitting at the tables around, some eating, some playing cards, even in the early hours of the morning. All were like Gaunter, tall and robust, work-hardened. Most smelled like fish and he saw nests propped against the wall of the inn.

_'' Nightmares.'' The Witcher grunted as an answer. The innkeeper nodded, going back to his glasses.  
_'' The bard's alright ?'' He asked and several burly heads rose at the mention.   
_'' There's a bard there ?'' Asked a man with black, shabby hair, his deep, dark eyes shining with interest under his thick brows. ''He'll sing for us ?''

Geralt sat at the bar, back turned.

_'' I don't know, maybe. If he wants.''

Excited murmurs rose behind him and he ordered some food and asked Gaunter for a bath. The innkeeper smiled and assured him that he'll keep food for Jaskier when he'll wake up. Geralt nodded a thanks and ate before going back upstairs to wash.  
Jaskier was still sleeping when he finished and he tried to occupy himself with menial tasks. He didn't want to stay in this village for too long but he knew that the bard needed rest and warmth.   
He was mending the tear made by a kikimora in one of his pairs of pants when he heard the quickening of Jaskier's heart next to him. He put down the cloth and the needle when the bard rose on the bed with a gasp and a sob. He sat next to him and Jaskier clutched his shirt with trembling fingers.

_'' I'm a bit tired of waking up like this'', he said with a dark, self-deprecating chuckle. Geralt hummed and helped him sit against the headboard. He could hear his heart beat rabbit fast in his chest.

_'' You're feeling better ?'' He asked, sitting back on the stool. ''You're hungry ?''  
Jaskier looked around the room for a moment, at the low fire and the street below through the dirty glass.  
_'' I'm fine, I still feel a little weird,'' he answered. ''Like I'm not fully awake yet. And no, thank you, I'm not hungry.'' He turned toward Geralt, blue eyes scanning his face. He frowned. ''Did you sleep ?'' Geralt grunted and rose. ''Seriously Geralt, you look like a ghost.'' 

_'' You should eat. The innkeeper said he'll keep food for you. Wait here.''

When he went back upstairs with a steaming plate of fish soup, a slice of bread, and some tea he found Jaskier still sitting on the bed, Geralt's shirt on his knees as he finished sewing it. The bard looked up, snapping the thread with his teeth. His eyes drifted toward the food and his eyebrows disappeared behind his messy bangs.

_'' They're not messing with us it seems. It smells very good.'' 

Geralt nodded and sat back on the stool before giving the plate to Jaskier.

_'' The innkeeper is trying to butter you up so you sing for them. I think they're a little desperate for entertainment.''  
_'' Then I shall give those nice people what they want !'' He beamed, eyes shining with mirth, lips curled over the bowl of soup. He sipped on the grey liquid and grinned. ''It's very good, you want to taste ?''  
_'' No thank you,'' answered the Witcher, folding his mended shirt over his lap. ''I had some earlier. You're sure you're feeling up to this? I don't want you to overstrain yourself.'' Next to him, Jaskier snorted. 

_'' You wash my hair, you tuck me in after a nightmare and now you're scared I'll be too tired to win us some bread? Are you ok? Do you need a healer ?'' He asked with a laugh, scooting forward to put his hand on the Witcher's forehead. His smile disappeared when Geralt caught his hand with a click of his tongue, eyebrows low over worried eyes. Jaskier scoffed and tore his hand away to idly spoon the soup, pouting. ''Look Geralt,'' he said, petulant ''I'm alright. I just fell into a bog, I got a little cold, I'm not made of glass.''

Geralt scoffed and rose to put some wood in the fire again.

_'' You didn't fell in a bog, Jaskier. You were taken, under my nose, to an island with a fucking totem! Made of animals! You were freezing, I found blood on the trees.'' He turned around, Jaskier was watching him, now sitting on the rim of the bed, his toes curled over the straws on the floor, naked legs very pale against the sheet. He crossed his arms over his chest to hide the trembling of his hands. ''If you want to sing tonight I won't stop you, but tomorrow we go and we put as much distance as we can between us and this place. Got it ?'' Jaskier nodded, the green ribbons of his shirt flustering and Geralt exhaled. ''Finish eating then.'' He ordered, pointing the steaming bowl on the bard's lap with his chin. 

Jaskier finished the soup and drank the tea under the watchful eyes of the Witcher before going to wash with one of the buckets that Geralt hadn't use. He pulled the Witcher's shirt he had been mending over his still dripping chest and Geralt growled. Jaskier turned toward him with big, falsely innocent eyes and told him that it was warmer than any of the shirts he had and Geralt let it slide because it was true, admonishing himself that he was growing too soft. Came a time when people feared him. What happened to that? Well, most people were still scared when he was near. Jaskier never was.

The bard finished dressing himself with the warm purple set that he had put on him before and Geralt watched as he closed the button of the doublet all the way up, the soft fur lining caressing his chin. He looked warm enough like this, noble, like a prince from a fairy tale. And nobody could see that he was wearing his shirt underneath.

Before Geralt could react, Jaskier was out the door, whistling and bouncing down the stairs.

There was nobody inside the hall. The chairs were neatly put under the tables and the glass ring covered surfaces were glistening, glasses drying on the rack behind the counter. Geralt remembered that the innkeeper told him that he worked as the blacksmith too during the day and lead the bard out of the building.   
Outside, a thin drizzle was falling from the heavy sky. They stopped at the stables on their way and he pretended not to notice when Jaskier gave Roach a piece of carrot he had kept hidden in his sleeve.

The blacksmith shop was a wide room attached to the courtyard, pieces of boat and farming equipment propped against the dripping, mossy walls. Behind the anvil, near the open flames of the furnace was a short woman with muscular arms and a long, messy braid. When she heard them she rose from her work, her brown skin damp with sweat, and smiled.

_'' You must be the mysterious travelers my husband talked about! The bard and the Witcher.'' She greeted them, putting aside the heavy pliers and the axehead she had been working on. Jaskier strut toward her with a smile of his own.  
_'' It is indeed, fair lady.'' He crooned. ''The charming fellow behind me is named Geralt and I am Jaskier, at your service.'' He bowed with a flourish and took one of her work calloused hand in his before kissing her knuckles. She let out a surprised laugh, dark cheeks tinging with a pretty pink.

_'' I'm Bea.'' She said, taking her hand away and smoothing down her apron, bringing her braid over her shoulder with fluttering hands.  
At the same moment, Gaunter entered the room, grumbling under his breath about the rain and Geralt prayed that he hadn't witnessed the scene. He rose his bald head toward his wife and beamed when his eyes met them. The Witcher was really not used to this kind of reaction.

_''Master bard !'' He said with a booming, gravelly voice. ''Ya're awake! How are ya feeling ?'' He asked, putting one of his shovel-like hands on Jaskier's shoulder. The bard smiled and answered :

_'' I'm better now, thank you. And thank you for opening up your inn to us in the middle of the night. I am most gracious.'' Gaunter huffed a laugh that sounded like rolling thunder and went around the anvil to place an arm around his wife, dwarfing her.

_'' Don't ya worry. You will be forgiven to have woken us up if you sing tonight! We need much cheer lately, the village is small and it's always sad when we lose our young. People need singing and dancing now more than ever.''  
Geralt eyebrows rose at that and Jaskier frowned.  
_'' Of course I will sing for you, how could I refuse after I ate such a fine fish soup.'' He answered, comely putting his fists on his hips.  
The innkeeper's wife scoffed and pinch her husband's belly.  
_'' Stop jesting, master bard. We all know that my husband's soup tastes like boiled longjohns.'' She laughed.  
Jaskier laughed with her but the sound died in his throat and Geralt felt a prickling on the back of his neck. 

The rain started to pour over them, the sound becoming deafening for a second and his instincts yelled at him to run or to kill, like he was used to feeling the second just before the attack of a beast. On his arms, his hairs were standing straight. He put his hand on Jaskier's shoulder to take him away and saw the bard's eyes. He was fixing the cooling incandescent yellow of the axehead the blacksmith had been working on, unblinking.

_'' Jaskier ?'' Geralt asked, his fingers clenching the bard's shoulder.

_'' Is he ok ?'' Asked Bea, coming to him.   
Jaskier was motionless, expression blank, mouth slack, and eyes wide open, unfocused. She put a hand against his forehead.

_'' Master Bard ?'' Asked Gaunter, dark busky brows low over his eyes.

Long seconds stretch in uncomfortable silence. Bea checked the bard's pulse, pressing two fingers down under his jaw but Geralt could hear that the beating of his heart was steady. He didn't understand. Jaskier was smelling like himself, the medallion was still and cold against his chest. He put his other hand against the bard's cheek. He wasn't cold, he wasn't shaking, his skin had a healthy pink hue. What was happening to him?

_'' Jaskier ??'' He pleaded again, shaking the bard a little, voice low with fear.

Suddenly, sharp like the sound of a whip, the laugh that had died in Jaskier throat pierced the silence. Bea jumped and put a hand on her chest, muttering a prayer under her breath.

_'' What is happening here ?'' Asked Jaskier, looking around, eyes clear as a morning sky. He frowned when his eyes met the Witcher's, worry twisting his features. ''Geralt, you look like you've seen a ghost !''

Bea, Gaunter, and Geralt all looked at each other and the bard clicked his tongue, crossing his arms over his chest.

_'' What is happening? Why are you all looking so pale? Did I miss something ?''

Geralt shook himself. It must be the shock, he thought, the cold and the exhaustion of the last nights. It was nothing, he told himself. There's no beast here.

_'' It's nothing, lark.'' He answered, putting an arm around the bard's shoulders.  
He was warm underneath him. Warm and solid and human. Alive. '' Come, I'll destroy you at Gwent until those dear people deem it's time for you to destroy their poor ears in turn with the scritching you call singing.''  
Jaskier elbowed him on the ribs but let himself be steered away from the blacksmith shop.''

The rain began to fall in earnest when they reached their room and Geralt made sure that the fire was high. Soon, a low rumble of thunder started to shake the windows, lighting zipping the sky.  
They played Gwent near the hearth until the dusk came, stretching the shadows against the wall.

_'' I know you're cheating'' the bard huffed, letting his losing cards fall on top of the deck. ''One day, I'll prove it.''  
He rose from his seat and started to stretch, a high keening noise escaping from his lips as he pulled his shoulders back.   
He went to fetch his lute as Geralt was putting away the game and started to tune it, warming up his voice at the same time.

_'' Are you sure you're not too tired to perform tonight ?'' He asked when the bard was in between scales.  
Jaskier didn't raise his head from his instrument, looking at him through his bangs.  
_'' Yes Geralt'' he answered, peeved. ''Yes, I'm sure. Funny how you make me walk halfway across the continent on my feet but the second I fall into a puddle you become a mother hen.  
Geralt stayed silent at that, chastised.  
He heard the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs and a few seconds later knocks came down on the wooden door, making Jaskier jump.

_'' We're ready for ya master bard !'' 

Jaskier ran to open the door, a big smile making the blue of his eyes twinkle in the dark of the room.

_'' Then I shan't make you wait any longer, he said with a bow, then, taking Gaunter's elbow he asked: ''Shall we ?'' and stirred them both downstairs. Geralt followed them, eyes glued to where the two men were touching, a weird twisting in his belly making him frown.

Downstairs the inn room was packed. Everywhere he could see work-hardened people, most of them tall and robust. Even the women were far from frail. Everyone was wearing colorful garments of blue, red, and green that he has seen Gaunter wear earlier and suited the faded paint covering most of the putrid buildings. When the villagers saw Jaskier the room erupted in applause and the bard beamed, sending Geralt a mirthful glance above his shoulder.  
He jumped on the stage and opened his arms.  
_'' Please gentlemen! ... And ladies'' he added with a wink ''don't applaud just yet. I shall endeavor to be worthy of such enthusiasm !''

And without further ado, he threw himself in a fast passed jig with clever lyrics that made everyone in the room stand and dance.

Geralt found a place in a corner and Bea brought him a drink before sitting next to him, her long braid brushing for a second the sticky tabletop.

_'' He looks better.'' She said, her eyes on Jaskier.  
Geralt hummed.

Under the warm light of the lamps illuminating the inside of the inn, he looked like a fairy or a sprite, washed in gold and green. His eyes were shining and the sweat was starting to darken the hair of his bangs.  
For a while, both of them stayed silent. Bea was beating the rhythm of the music with her feet under the table, head bobbing.

_ ''Don't you want to go dance with your husband?'' Asked Geralt.  
Near the stage, Gaunter was dancing a badly choreographed jig with a bushy-haired, dark-skinned kid that he suspected was his and Bea's. He turned and lifted the child up in the air, making the kid squeal.  
Bea smiled and straightened her legs under the table.  
_'' I will, I just need to pace myself if I want to be able to walk without my cane tomorrow. I had a bad accident you see, shattered my right knee. It's not working as it should lately.''

Geralt nodded and fell silent again.  
All around him the sound of the music and laughter was echoing against the damp walls. Jaskier was alive on the stage, his voice ringing true and pure above everything else.   
The song finished in a flourish and a high note and the room exploded in applause, making the lamps shake above their heads.   
Jaskier bowed and started a more sated ballad. Geralt knew this one well, it was about him and a couple of vampires he had come across a few years back.   
They both watched the performance until the end of the song, slowly sipping on their ales. 

_'' You said something about losing your youngs before ?'' Geralt asked, his eyes not leaving the dancing form of Jaskier.  
He could feel Bea's eyes on the side of his face but didn't turn to meet her gaze.

_'' Yes...'' She finally said, her eyes falling to her lap. ''We've lost five children over the last seven months. First, it was the Aras twins, a girl and a boy. Both sixteen they were, and so full of life. They went hunting one day and never came back. We've found their bloody clothes hanging on the branches of a birch tree like a scarecrow. We've looked everywhere but couldn't find their bodies. Part of me hopes that they just left this place but I doubt it.'' She paused there, her eyes on her husband and her son dancing next to the stage. She took a swing of her ale before continuing: '' Next, it was Harriet's son. He was fourteen. He went missing for three days and we found his dead body in his father's boat, the lower half of his body gone.''  
She drowned the rest of her drink and Geralt heard a grunt and sniff but said nothing. She dried her mouth with the back of her hand and watched Jaskier for a while, fingers playing with her mug.  
'' Then it was Nalaly, the beautiful Nalaly... She was the seamstress apprentice. She had a bright future ahead of her, she was supposed to start working in one of the capital's shop. The day before she was supposed to go we found her body in her bed, lying next to her fiance. They both were cut from throat to navel and someone had taken their hearts out...'' She breathed, blinking away tears and grunted. '' And knotted them together.''

Geralt was silent, letting Bea dry her tears with the hem of her apron.

-'' They were all so full of life'', she said. '' Every single one of them. So bright in a place so full of gloom. Now everything seems darker. Nobody ever laughs anymore.''  
She straightened herself with a cough like she was embarrassed for having cried. She turned toward Geralt and smiled. ''Your arrival helped us. It's always nice to see new faces, we feel a little bit alive again.'' She turned to Jaskier's performance again. Everyone was dancing in lines in the middle of the room, following the bard steps under the cheerful music.

_'' I never heard of a beast that did what happened to the children. Most monsters, they hunt because they're hungry, or because people trespass on their territory. Such horribles killing, I never heard of it.'' He paused, watching the profile of the woman. She was so small but so strong. So human. ''But I can look. I can ask my brothers, see if something comes up. Maybe it's the same thing that took Jaskier that did all this.''   
She turned toward him.   
'' I want to find out what it is.'' He told her, ''And kill it.''  
She looked at him for a moment, her eyes searching his face. She then smiled, her teeth white against the dark of her skin.  
_'' Please, do.'' She said, before turning back to Jaskier's performance.  
She stayed silent a moment and stand up, brushing her apron. Without turning she said:

_'' He's very good, your man.'' 

The Witcher opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. ''Thank you'', he said instead with a small bow of his head.

The next day, when Jaskier will wake around noon and they'll leave this town and the bog behind, Geralt will think about this phrasing.   
Watching Jaskier atop Roach, gloating that he finally managed to ride her he will taste it. He will admire the way the small snowflakes make his brown hair glistened, his eyes shining against the grey of the sky. He will repeat it to himself like a secret.

His man, his man, his man.


	4. I found you in the Meadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the time it took to write this chapter but time is a weird little thing lately.  
> Geralt is really ooc in this story but hey, I don't care. I want him to be nice, so he will be nice.
> 
> Thank you for everyone reading, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Geralt chose to follow the path toward the east. Winter was starting to settle and for the first time since he met Jaskier, Geralt wanted to go home. It had been almost five years now since the Witcher had to go back to Kaer Morhen and, guided by some instinct he couldn't really understand, he really wanted that to change now. He never thought before of letting the bard meet his brothers and Vesemir but a part of his brain, the part of that snarled like an animal every time Jaskier's eyes became vacant or unknown noises rose from the forest, made him want to hide the man between the heavy walls of the fortress until spring. He felt this need like a stone on his sternum, like a tension on his back, his brain screaming for a need to protect, to build a nest, to keep warm. He had never felt that for anyone before, this need to take care of someone. 

He knew Jaskier saw the change in him, saw how much more protective he had become and snapped at him every time he got too clingy like he would a misbehaving child.

« I'm not a kid, Geralt! Nor am I made of glass so stop fussing for the love of God ! » he had said the last time he had woken up from a nightmare, finding the Witcher worried gaze on him. He knew the bard love the attention somewhat but really didn't like the babying that came with it.

It had been no more than two weeks since the accident in the bog and they were still a month of travel away from Kaer Morhen. Nothing worth noticing had happened since the incident in the blacksmith workshop in the fishing village, except for recurring nightmares for Jaskier. He was plagued by them every night, sometimes more than once. Geralt could see that he was getting tired, not sleeping enough. Now and then, he would wait the whole morning before leaving their camp just to let the bard sleep a little bit longer. It worried Geralt even more, the stone getting louder on his chest because that delayed their travels toward Kaedwen a little bit every day. For the first time since he met him, he let Jaskier rode on Roach often, just for the chance to let him catch some very uncomfortable catnap on her back.

They were crossing a forest now, the air chilly around them and Jaskier was shivering in his fur-lined coat. The trees were buzzing with life, full of birds and squirrels. A deer had crossed their path, stopping in the middle of the road to glance at the strange pair, before leaping gracefully back in the foliage. Jaskier had exclaimed at that, amazed at the beauty of the animal, and gasped and slapped the Wicher's arm when Geralt told him he regretted not having a bow and arrow at the ready. Deer roast was one of his favorite after all.

They reached a small village before sundown and booked a room inside the only inn there was a small wooden building near the market place. Jaskier insisted on playing for the night, even if Geralt could feel the exhaustion coming from him in waves.

_'' Are you sure ?'' he asked, ''there's enough from both or pocket to last us three more night, you don't have to if you are too tired.'' He said, watching the purple hue under Jaskier's eyes, the reddened corner of his eyelids.

He saw Jaskier's shoulders tense and a muscle in his jaw clench.

_'' I need to earn my keep, Geralt, I always have and I won't stop now just because I'm a little bit tired.'' He said, his eyes avoiding Geralt's. The Witcher could feel that he was angry but suspected that it was more at himself than anything else.  
Jaskier took his lute and without a backward glance went back downstairs. Geralt didn't follow him, choosing instead to sit on the top stairs, away from prying eyes, to listen.  
It was a calm performance, Jaskier choosing to perform his most lyrical songs, tales of estranged lovers and lost civilization, full of promises and hopes, of heartbreak and loss. 

It was the ones Geralt loved the most, the ones that felt like lullabies.

He never dared to tell him and would probably never will but Geralt loved Jaskier's voice. He had a nice timber, placing his notes always perfectly. He loved to listen to him sing.

To not disappoint anyone, the bard still finished the night with a couple of more energic songs to rise the audience spirit and the Witcher could hear the tension in his voice, the heaviness behind every note.   
He closed his eyes an instant, listening to the last vibrato and Jaskier's fervent thanks as the room applaud and the cacophony of the conversations started again once the representation was over, full of lilting accents and laughter.   
A noise made him open his eyes and they fell on Jaskier's silhouette at the bottom of the stairs, his face half in the shadow, the light behind him bathing his disheveled hair in accents of copper. The Witcher caught a smile on the bard's lips and a fond scoff rose toward him.  
_'' You could have come down, you know. It would have been much more comfortable for you.'' He said, climbing the stairs with a small spring to his steps, seeming like the applause gave him back a little of his usual energy.

_'' Hmm,'' the Witcher only answered.

Jaskier reached his side on the top stair and put a hand on his shoulder, pressing the muscle underneath a second before lifting it again, leaving a strange, burning sensation on the Witcher's skin.

_'' Are you coming to bed ?'' The bard asked and Geralt nodded, rising to follow him inside the small room they rented.

They prepared for the night with Jaskier idle chitchat keeping them company, quickly washing with a small basin Geralt had heated up with Igni before climbing into bed side by side. He knew Jaskier loved to sleep in the same bed as him because it seems that only like this the nightmares were kept a little bit at bay.   
Without a word, Jaskier curled toward him, his head loving itself under Geralt's chin, his arm snaking around his torso and the Witcher followed the position, draping an arm over the bard and the other pillowing under his head. He could feel Jaskier's heartbeat rabbit fast, thumping quickly in his ribs like a caged bird.   
He could feel that Jaskier wanted to say something, his throat bobbing in the dark as he swallowed. Geralt waited, his fingers tracing the seam line of the bard's undershirt.

He said nothing, and so the Witcher chose to keep quiet as well.

It was still dark outside when Geralt felt the soft warmth of Jaskier leave the bed. He grunted and settled back without opening his eyes, knowing that the bard was most probably going to pee.

When he awoke again it was because of the cold. Consciousness came to him in a jolt and he was bright-eyed in a second. The bed was empty.

_'' Jaskier ?'' He called in a whisper into the empty room but nobody answered.  
Geralt rose, swears falling from his behind clenched teeth.  
He opened the door and the bard wasn't in the corridor.  
He swore again and dressed quickly. He looked around the inn, upstairs and then downstairs, ears straining for a sound but everything was silent. He wondered for a second if the bard hadn't left to meet a paramour he had seduced for the night but didn't think so. He heard the whole representation and Jaskier didn't dwell afterward like he often did. He couldn't have been taken either because it would have absolutely woken up Geralt.  
No, Jaskier left of his own volution and Geralt just needed to find him. And yell at him.

There wasn't anyone downstairs. He went to check the stable, just in case the bard had decided to visit Roach in the middle of the night but there was nothing there either.

_'' Where did he go ?'' he asked a sleeping Roach that didn't answer.

Geralt ran back upstairs to fetch his cloak and swords. He wasn't inside, maybe he had left to walk around in the night. His slow heart started to pound sluggishly in his chest. Maybe the Beast had come back.  
He stopped at the entrance of their room. Jaskier's coat was right next to Geralt's, where he had left it. His package was closed and tidy, the clothes he had worn the day before still draped over the sitting bench in front of the fireplace.   
If Jaskier had gone outside, he would have gone with only his sleeping shirt.

Geralt cursed again, taking Jaskier's coat under his arms, and ran downstairs, barreling through the door. The streets were empty and the air wasn't as cold as Geralt feared but still too cold for a half-naked, barefoot man.

_'' JASKIER !!'' He yelled, making a flock of pigeons take flight from the rooftops. He half walked, half ran down the street, looking around. '' JASKIER !'', he yelled again, one, two, three times.  
On the street across from him, a candle lit behind a window and someone yelled at him to shut his mouth and go fuck himself because people were trying to sleep there. Geralt didn't care and kept searching the streets and soon, he was standing on the bridge that crossed the small river circling the village.

_'' JASKIER!!'' he bellowed again, voice hoarse. ''Where are you, you stupid fucker ?''

The road was not traveled a lot but still enough to make tracking complicated. He found a barefoot print in the cold mud and chose to follow this lead, his heart hammering in his ears.

_'' When I find you,'' he swore under his breath, jogging toward the tree line, ''I swear, I swear to fuck I'm going to punch you in the face.''

He followed the tracks as best as he could in the dark, cursing under his breath.  
_'' What am I? Your fucking babysitter ?'' He asked the silent road. ''Stupid asshole, I swear to god you make my hair whiter than they already are. For fuck sake.''

The tracks became easier and easier to follow the deeper he went behind the tree line and the sky was starting to turn a lighter shade of blue above him.  
He stopped in his tracks when the wind suddenly carried Jaskier's scent. He followed the smell like a hound in the blue hour of the forest and found the source fast enough. There, in the middle of a hunting trail, was Jaskier's nightshirt and, a few paces from that his undergarments.

_'' What the fuck ?'' He breathed out, picking the clothes from the floor. They weren't torn and didn't smell like fear or panic. ''JASKIER !!'' He yelled for what felt like the hundredth time in a too short period of time.   
He heard rustling ahead and bolted. 

Songbirds started to sing above his head when the air carried the bard scent again. He followed the trail and found himself in a small clearing covered in moss and pine thorns. A small brook was gurgling, a tongue of silvery water cutting the floor. Another bird song joined the first and he saw him.

Jaskier was standing near the tree line, naked, back to him. He was clutching his arms so strongly that his nails had pierced the skin of his biceps.  
He was shivering badly but otherwise unmoving.

_'' Jaskier ?'' The Witcher called, running to his companion. He stopped near him, trying to make sense of the situation, not wanting to startle him. He approached him from his side, hands outstretched like he would with a scared animal. The bard didn't acknowledge him. ''Jaskier, can you hear me ?'' He asked, searching for the bard's eyes. He was looking at a spot on the floor, blue eyes hidden under his bangs, teeth shattering.   
Geralt reached toward him, gently placing his hands on his shoulders and the bard jerked off of his trance at his contact, jumping badly with a hoarse scream. Geralt clasped his arms and Jaskier screamed in earnest, struggling to free himself, slapping and kicking the Witcher, tugging on his arms with terrified shrieks.

_'' Jaskier! Jaskier it's me !'' He yelled, trying to be heard over the screams of the bard, grunting under a slap. ''Calm down for fuck sake, please !'' He roared, shaking him roughly.   
That, at last, seemed to snap the bard back to himself. He slapped his hands on his mouth and stopped struggling at once, blue eyes wide and fixed on the Witcher.

Panting, Geralt released Jaskier's arms, placing his hand on his shoulders instead.

_'' What the fuck was that Jaskier ?'' He asked in a grunt before picking the bard clothes where he had dropped them. '' For fuck sake, you scared me you wanker !'' He spat.  
Jaskier was still shaking, hands still clasped against his mouth, shaking like a leaf when Geralt placed his coat around his shoulders. At the contact, Jaskier whimpered behind his hands. ''Give me your arms, Geralt said before getting hold of the bard's wrist and tugging it toward the sleeve hole of the garment. Jaskier didn't say anything but let himself be manhandled, his eyes never leaving Geralt. The Witcher took one of the bard's hands in his own, pressing the pad of his thumb to every finger before sighing.  
_'' At least you're not frozen, just a little cold. I would have hit you on the face if I had to draw you a bath right now. Come on.'' he said before snaking an arm behind Jaskier's knees and lifting him up.  
Jaskier yelped and clutch his arms around the Witcher's neck, hiding his face in the crook of his neck.

_'' I swear to god, bard. The things I do for you...''

Jaskier stayed silent a moment, fingers clenching and unclenching around the witcher's coat. Geralt reached the road again and began to walk in earnest toward the village.  
They were crossing the bridge leading to the village when Jaskier finally spoke.

_'' Is that really you? Geralt ?''

Geralt frowned.

_'' Who else do you want it to be ?''

Jaskier didn't answer.

To light blue, the sky had turned to white and the village was starting to wake. The few people outside looked at them strangely and Geralt glowered at the innkeeper when he saw them crossing the threshold of the building and opened his mouth to say something.

Once his their room, Geralt latched the door closed and laid the bard on the bed.  
Jaskier crawled under the covers with a shiver and curled on his side, eyes empty under his bangs.

Geralt sighed and sat next to him.

_'' Why did you go outside, Jask ?'' he asked, voice rough.

The bard didn't look at him, silent for a moment.

_'' I don't know'', he answered in a voice so low that Geralt couldn't have heard it without his wolf's ear.

_'' What do you remember last ?'' he pressed on, turning toward the bard.

Jaskier stayed silent for long seconds again, his breath a deliberate thing, making the bundle of covers rise and fall above him.

_'' I remember... I remember going to bed. You. And... Nothing. I woke up in the clearing with you in front of me.'' He explained in a whisper. He curled in on himself more tightly. ''But I know there is something missing. I feel it. I know that there's something there that I should remember but I can't. I can't, Geralt.'' He said and his voice broke on the Witcher's name, huge sobs escaping him suddenly. 

The Witcher was shocked for a second, at loss at what to do.  
The bard's sobs seemed painful, raking his body like they were coming from the very core of him. He watched helplessly as Jaskier hid his scrunched face behind his hands, small, terrified cries muffled.

_'' Jaskier ?'' He asked unsure, his hand coming to rest on the shaking shoulder of the bard.

_'' I'm so sorry Geralt. I'm so sorry.'' Came an answer from behind the bard's hands. Geralt tutted and gently took the bard's wrists, tugging them away from his face. He met Jaskier's bloodshot eyes, the blue almost glowing under the wet eyelashes. His swole face was wet, his nose and cheeks very red, making his freckles stand out and something howled in Geralt's chest.

He tucked one arm under the bard's body and rose him effortlessly, tucking him under his chin, large hands caressing his back. Jaskier's sob became even stronger, wracking his body and Geralt could do nothing but to rock him.

_'' I'm sorry,'' said the bard again, wet face tucked in the Witcher's shoulder. '' I'm sorry Geralt, I'm just... I'm just so scared.'' He said in between sobs. '' Something is wrong with me. 

_'' Nothing is wrong with you, Jaskier.'' He said in a low rumble, one hand curled in Jaskier's hair, splayed over his skull, the other one tracing the line of his spine again and again. ''And if something is, I promise you we will find what, and we'll fix it.''

_'' I feel so weak. There is something immense, monstrous, and dark somewhere and it's getting closer. It's going to eat me, Geralt.'' 

The sobs became subsided a little and Jaskier didn't move, body still shaking, clutching at the Witcher like a lifeline in a storm.  
Outside, the sun had fully risen, white light coming in ray between the half-closed shutter, dust dancing in the glow.

Geralt could feel it as well, this presence and, for one of the first time since the Trial of the Grasses, he was truly scared.

_'' It's a good thing you are here with a Witcher, then.'' He said, at last, the hand in the bard's hair softly scratching his skull. ''If something immense, monstrous, and dark comes for you, I will fight it.''

The bard said nothing, only nodding against the Witcher's shoulder.   
The cries had stopped but Geralt kept on rocking him.  
Behind the door of their room he could hear the tenant starting their lives for the day, he listened to the bustle for a little bit, his breath coming in time with Jaskier's.  
The bard's body had become heavier against him. He chuckled, the bard had fallen asleep on him, like an oversized cat.

The Witcher moved Jaskier's body so he was lying more comfortably on the bed. The bard made a sound of protest and half-opened his eyes for a second.

_'' You should drink, you're going to have a terrible headache if you don't.'' He said, fetching his waterskin and giving it to the bard. Jaskier took it and half rose to drink a little before collapsing back on the pillows.

_'' You're taking care of me.'' The bard said with a little smile as Geralt drew the blankets over his body.

_'' I do. Don't tell it to anyone, my reputation would be ruined.''

Jaskier smiled at that and closed his eyes. He was asleep in seconds.


End file.
